Gate Keepers Heaven
by White Evergreen
Summary: AU. Recent events in Harry's world are pointing toward the rise of a new Dark Lord. On top of that, it looks like the gods have decided it
1. Default Chapter

Author's Note:  
  
This is a highly unusual story. I know I put "Harry Potter" as the book this is based on, and it is. But I have also incorporated aspects from other works into my story. In addition to featuring characters, places, names, etc. from Harry Potter, I have also included similar things from Lord of the Rings, Sabriel, Inu Yasha, The Lost Years of Merlin, Dark Angel, The Legend of Zelda, Star Wars, Magic Knight RayEarth, Ella Enchanted, Spirited Away, Sailor Moon, even Gundam Wing, a little bit, plot wise. All this is just my attempt to write a story to go along with a really cool dream I had. Harry will have the same dream in a future chapter, so stay tuned if you're interested.  
  
I have changed a few things to try and display some originality, but if you see something that reminds you of an outside story, chances are it's from an outside story. I'm not going to try and say what belongs to whom every single chapter, so this is my detailed disclaimer.  
  
One final note, when you read this fanfic, the world you are entering is not the same one as the original Harry Potter. This is another Earth entirely. And no, the Middle Kingdom here is not China.  
  
Thank you and enjoy. Indigo Dragon  
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
  
Prologue  
  
Always, there are three. Three levels of society. Three countries in the world. Three languages. Three Heads of the Council. Three forms of magic. Three golden Goddesses. Three Gates, each protected and guarded by the three Temples, and the three Sacred Talismans, and the three Gate Keepers.  
  
Star Gate, doorways to Valinor, home of the gods. The Gate itself is housed in Heaven's Temple. Here, the Gate Keeper stands watch, the Tenseiga, sword of Life, in hand, ensuring that only the few who were worthy would pass to Valinor. The Temple is a castle, same as the others. In the glow of the sun, it gleaming white walls shone like a second moon.  
  
Middle Gate, as the name suggests is the middle ground between the other two Gates. The Middle Portal, as it is sometimes called, is guarded by the Temple of the Sea. The Gate Keeper oversees the surrounding ocean from the guard towers enclosing the Temple. Deeper Cut, the double-edged sword of the Temple, prevents trespassers from wandering where they are unwelcome.  
  
Lastly, is Hell's Gate. Fortified deep in the Shadow Temple, it shields the world from its greatest evils. Hell's Gate seals the only entrance to the fiery innards of the world, where demons and the dark warlords were banished by the gods. The Gate Keeper here has the greatest duty of them all. Never can they leave their post, except under the gravest of circumstances, lest the seals be broken, and the path to Hell thrown open. Therefore, the sacred talisman of the Gate has power equal to that of the responsibility to wield it. The Silence Glaive has strength enough to destroy the Devil himself along with all him minions. But to destroy the Devil, the Glaive must also destroy the world. Hence, the Gate Keeper must forever stand watch, lest their absence lead the end of everything.  
  
The names and the deeds of the Gate Keepers are worshipped and remembered as if they were gods. To be in the presence of one is honor above meeting a king. The sacred weapons at their sides elongate their wielder's life, making it possible for entire centuries to pass under the same Keeper. Even so, times must change, as must the people in them. Age gives way to youth. The old is replaced by the new.  
  
This is the story of the new. A story of good and evil, light and darkness, hope and despair. A story of how three sworn brothers were put thru the worst their world had to offer, and stuck together to beat it all. A story of change.  
  
This is the story of a boy, his brother, and his best friend.  
  
It all started with the birth of a single child at the break of dawn.  
  
A tall man with glasses and untidy black hair paced outside the bedroom door. On the other side of the narrow panel of wood, his wife was in labor with their first child. After a difficult pregnancy, the day, or night, rather, had finally come. The man was more than ready to welcome his offspring into the world, but he worried about his wife. Complications had surface early on, and despite the healer's most powerful magic, survival would depend on the strength of the mother, and the babe.  
  
The man stopped his pacing to run a hand down his wrinkled brow. He could hear muffled sounds coming from inside the bedroom. What was going on? Was everything all right? Shouldn't he have been called in there by now? It had been over eighteen hours since the labor began. Shouldn't something have happened?  
  
A hand on his shoulder interrupted his mussing. A second man, also with black hair, though a lot neater, stood facing the other. "Relax," he said.  
  
The first man looked at his friend, and sighed. "Relax." That's all he had heard for the past eighteen hours. But how could he? The love of his life was in labor in the next room, possibly dying, while he was out here in the hall, scuffing up the marble floor enough to give it a new coating. All attempts to calm him seemed rather tactless right now.  
  
The second man seemed to know what the first was thinking. However, he also seemed to be at a loss for words to say that could be of any comfort to the anxious father-in-waiting.  
  
The minutes crawled by like centuries. Numerous times, either man had looked up to the magical clock that hung on the wall, convinced that hours had gone since he consulted it last, only to find meager minutes had passed. Both courted the idea that the damned thing was broken.  
  
Actual hours later, the second man, unable to bear the tension radiating from his companion, walked down to the opposite side of the hall. He moved to sit back down again in front of the large window there when an orange glint on the horizon caught his eye.  
  
Then the door of the bedroom opened, and one of the midwives came out. "Sirius!" the first man shouted as leapt to his feet. He need not have bothered; his friend was already sprinting back down the hall. As Sirius skidded to a halt, he burst out, "How are they?"  
  
"Your son is perfectly fine, Mr. Potter. You should be very proud," she said, smiling. The other man let out a sigh of relief, but James's worries were only half over. "And his mother?" he asked, dreading the answer.  
  
The midwife paused, her smile fading. "We've done everything we can," she said, not quite meeting his eye. "But she's not going to last much longer."  
  
In that instant, his entire world came crashing down. Sirius caught him as he staggered backward. It was a moment before James had collected himself to demand, "Let me see them."  
  
The woman looked as if she was going to say something, but then thought better of it. She nodded.  
  
James took a deep breath, braced himself for the worst, the followed her inside.  
  
Lily, his beloved Lily, lay propped up on the bed. She was singing to a bundle of blankets with a mop of jet black fuzz nestled in her arms. The babe appeared to be fast asleep.  
  
Lily had looked up when her husband had entered. James took a moment to marvel at how, even as she lay dying, weak from giving birth, she was still his beautiful Lily. Tired, anxious, and terrified though he was, the sight of his wife and their infant son forced his face into a smile. James walked over to the bed and sat down next to his newly extended family.  
  
Another midwife was packing up supplies beside the bed. She nodded to James, then she and the last two exited the room, leaving the Potters alone.  
  
James watched them go, then he turned to his wife. He bent over and kissed her on the cheek. "Hello, beautiful," he said, trying to sound like the loving husband he normally was. James hated to see Lily so weak, hated the fact that he was about to lose her forever. He wanted her last moments to be good ones. He was failing miserably.  
  
Lily saw the tears that were threatening to fall from James's eyes. She reached up and brushed them away. "Don't be sad," she whispered.  
  
James grasped the hand on his face. "Why?" he asked her, his voice, and his entire body shaking. "Why did you have to go through with this? You knew that you could die."  
  
Lily took a deep breath before answering. She was alarmingly weak. "I wanted to have your child. I love you, James." Now, it was his turn to get a kiss on the cheek. Correctly interpreting his sigh, she added, "And I love you because you are charming and sweet, and kind. and too persistent for me not to." Lily's bright green eyes, though they were clouded over with pain, still twinkled as she smiled at her husband. James gazed into them as he had so many times before. "I love you, too, Lily. I will always love you."  
  
The tears really did fall this time. A few splashed onto the forehead of the still silent baby, tucked away besides his mother. The infant stirred, however, as the salty water trickled down his face. "That reminds me, James," Lily whispered. "You still have to meet someone."  
  
Carefully, very carefully, James took his son from his wife's arms and cradled him in his own. Minding to keep the boy's head up, he examined his offspring for the first time. Sad and grief-stricken as he was, James couldn't help but be amazed by the little miracle in his arms. "He's so tiny," he said, breathlessly.  
  
"I'm happy you like him."  
  
"I love him."  
  
".I'm glad.Raise.and love him well...Good bye.James."  
  
Still in awe, it took a moment for Lily's words to sink in. But when they did.  
  
"Lily!"  
  
James's attention shifted back to his wife just as her eyes closed.  
  
"Lily! Wake up, love! Please don't go! Lily!"  
  
It was useless. No matter what James did, his beloved wife didn't move.  
  
James sobbed. He couldn't help it. ".Open your eyes, love." he pleaded softly.  
  
But even as James spoke, he knew; Lily Evans Potter was dead. He had lost her. The very idea ripped him apart so much, he felt he would crumble into dust. James pulled himself together enough to wish her spirit safe passage to the Eternal Gardens, the final resting place. "Good bye, my Lily." James croaked. "Good bye.love."  
  
He kissed her on the forehead, breathing in her sweet scent for the last time. He couldn't believe that she was gone, couldn't believe those shining green eyes were closed forever.  
  
The baby in his arm let out a soft cry. James looked down at his son. He knew he should try and calm the child, but how could he when all he felt like doing was crying himself. Lily's lullaby played softly in his head. He had heard her sing it to their son while he was still in her womb. Perhaps that would work. So James sang;  
  
"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine." "You make me happy when skies are gray."  
  
The baby's cries grew louder. James gently stroked his cheek.  
  
"You'll never know how much I love you."  
  
James rocked his son slowly back and forth in his arms.  
  
"So please, don't take my sunshine away."  
  
The cried quieted, then ended in the smallest yawn James had ever seen. The infant seemed to fall asleep again as his father continued to rock him. Somewhere in a corner of James's mind, he realized that, somehow, by comforting his son, the pain of losing his wife had lessened, even if it was ever so slightly.  
  
There was a gentle knock at the door. James paid no attention.  
  
"James.?"  
  
James tore his eyes away from his son's face to look at his best friend. Sirius appeared more strained than James had ever seen him. Sirius looked from James to the baby to Lily's body to James again. For a long while, neither really knew what to do. Finally, Sirius, who seemed to be in a state of determined calm, said, "C'mon, James. You need to rest now. And we need to take care of him." Sirius motioned toward the baby.  
  
Still halfway in limbo, James looked back at his wife's beautiful face. "Yeah." he said.  
  
Sirius took James by the shoulder, and led him into the hall. Sunshine was streaming in thru the window now. It all seemed so unreal. As they walked past it, Sirius said tentatively, "So. Did you decide on a name for him?"  
  
James stopped. He shifted the baby slightly, so he could see him better. Perhaps it was the movement, perhaps it was the light shining on his face, but something woke the newborn. James watched as he yawned again, stretching his arms in a babyish sort of way. He didn't cry this time, but he did open his eyes, looking straight at his father.  
  
James gasped. "What is it?" Sirius asked, alarmed.  
  
"His eyes! They're so much like. How?"  
  
Sirius moved behind him. Both men stood transfixed, staring open mouthed at the tiny boy in James's arms.  
  
Lily's eyes, Lily's beautiful, brilliant, emerald eyes looked up at them. James couldn't believe it. He thought he was cursed to never see those eyes again. Yet here they were. Light from the sun was shining into the baby's eyes, making it seem like they were glowing with a light of their own. The first line of Lily's lullaby echoed in his mind, "You are my sunshine."  
  
"Ohiri." James whispered.  
  
"What?" said Sirius, looking up.  
  
"Ohiri," James told him. "Harry. That's what I'm going to call him."  
  
"Ohiri. Harry." Sirius repeated in an awed sort of voice. Then he smiled. "It suits him."  
  
Harry giggled at them. He lifted one small arm and reached for his father's face.  
  
James extended his pinky to meet his son's hand. The boy's tiny fingers just barely managed to wrap around it. A great feeling of warmth was growing in James's chest. It made him smile. "Harry," he said again. "My little Harry."  
  
Then he bent down, and kissed his son. 


	2. Ch 1 Morning and Vanderhall

Disclaimer: I own Harry Potter, Star Wars, The Lost Years of Merlin, The Lord of the Rings, Sabriel, The Legend of Zelda, Sailor Moon, Spirited Away, and whatever else I have in here. Now add a big, "I wish" the beginning of that sentence.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
  
Chapter 1: Morning at Vanderhall  
  
The light from the sun seemed especially bright as it shone on the form of Harry Potter. The seventeen year old was asleep at the moment, but not for long. His little brother would see to that. Brian simply loved to sneak into Harry's room and wake him up at all sorts of odd hours of the morning.  
  
Harry was ready for him this time, though. Brian, however, was too busy thinking about how much easier his prank was, as his older brother had stupidly left his door open to notice. Brian quietly nudged in, ready to jump on the bed, then run away at Harry's outrage.  
  
SPLAT!! An enormous bucket full of liquid came cascading down onto his head, bucket included. Pulling it off of his head, Brian looked up to find Harry sitting up in bed, grinning. "Good morning," he said.  
  
Brian was too busy wondering what the heck had just happened to reply. Harry laughed at the sight of him just standing there, sopping wet. Last night, he had balanced the bucket on top of the door, leaning it against the wall for support. It felt good to get back at the little runt.  
  
"Coming down to breakfast?" Harry asked, getting out of bed and grabbed a light robe. He pulled it on as Brian finally spoke. "What was that for!?" he demanded.  
  
"For invading my room and waking me up," Harry said.  
  
"But I didn't!"  
  
"Not today, true. But you were going to, and you certainly did last week, at four o'clock in the morning, no less!" Harry gave his brother a shrewd expression. "And don't look at me like that," he added as Brian attempted his famous 'I'm-an-innocent-child-how-could-you-think-such-a-thing?' expression. "I don't mind you pranking me, but Thursday was a bit much."  
  
Brian shrugged guiltily, hanging his head a little. Harry could tell he was genuinely sorry this time. He let the tension hang in the air for a moment longer, then he said, "So, are you coming to breakfast or what?"  
  
Brian looked up. Harry's grin told him all was forgiven. The two pranked each other a lot, but neither ever really held grudges, and the few that did pop up never really lasted long. Brian grinned himself, then jogged down the hallway to his brother. Harry waited until Brian had almost reached him, the shot ahead, shouting, "Race you to the kitchen!" over his shoulder.  
  
Brian tore after him. "Hey! Not fair! You got a head start!"  
  
"Too bad!"  
  
They raced down the halls of Vanderhall Manor. Brian almost managed to dash ahead of Harry as they passed the library, but his brother soundly beat him one floor later on the main staircase. Brian ran down while Harry flew down the railing.  
  
"Ha ha! I win, little brother! Victory!"  
  
Harry burst thru a door to the kitchen, Brian twenty feet behind him.  
  
"Not.fair, Harry." Brian wheezed as he came in behind him.  
  
"What's not fair is you gentlemen making enough racket to wake the entire house up at quarter to seven in the morning. again," said a sharp, but still amused voice behind them. Harry jumped. He'd been too busy gloating at Brian to notice that the kitchen was already occupied. Mrs. Figg, his childhood caretaker, was standing by the stove, a pot of tea in her hands. She didn't look surprised to see them. "Don't you think it's a tad bit early to be starting a water fight?" she added, looking over Brian, who was now only really damp, rather than sopping wet. Harry supposed he'd forgotten to dry off in the fun of racing him.  
  
"Well, it wasn't really a fight, since I never got a chance to get him back," Brian retorted indignantly. "But, oh well. This will have to do." He turned and hugged Harry hard around the middle.  
  
"Agh!" Harry exclaimed, trying to free himself.  
  
"Oh, break it up, you two." Mrs. Figg interrupted. Reluctantly, Brian let go of Harry, who stopped elbowing Brian in the face. "So, what will it be?" she continued, knowing perfectly well why they were here.  
  
"Waffles," Harry answered.  
  
"With blueberries!" added Brian.  
  
"My, that does sound good," said a fourth voice. James had just walked in behind his sons.  
  
"Waffles with blueberries it is, then." Mrs. Figg smiled at them. Apart from being a terrific storyteller, tuck-inner, and all of her other duties as a caretaker, Mrs. Figg was also an excellent cook. It was common knowledge that the lot in front of her now would gladly pass up the King's finest chefs for her apple pie any day.  
  
James and Harry sat down at the kitchen table. Brian ran to the laundry room to towel off and change into some spare robes. Mrs. Figg poured them some of her extra tea before she started making waffles. "Thank you," Harry said as she passed him hot mug of tea.  
  
"It's nothing, dear," she told him.  
  
Harry looked at his father just as the latter stifled a huge yawn. He grinned. "Nice hair, Dad."  
  
"Same. (yawn). to you," James retorted, ruffling his son's head.  
  
Brian joined them a few minutes later, and together, the four of them launched into their favorite topic: Quidditch. Because of their father, both Harry and Brian were devoted fanatics. However, Mrs. Figg loved the sport with a passion even James couldn't match. They happily argued amongst themselves during breakfast. By the time the food was on the table, Brian and Mrs. Figg got into a particularly heated discussion concerning Ludo Bagman, a beater for the Wimbourne Wasps. Brian thought he deserved another chance. Mrs. Figg said Bagman had had chances enough, seeming as he'd been taking money from his fans illegally to pay off his gambling debts for over five years.  
  
James was just going over the finer points of the game he'd been to in Riverfall when his wife walked in.  
  
Brian was putting the last of the dirty dishes in the sink when he spotted his mother. "Good morning, Mum," he said to her. The others looked up.  
  
"Good morning," Harry and James said together.  
  
"Madam, good morning," Mrs. Figg called over her shoulder.  
  
"Oh! Good morning, everyone," said Melissa. Harry could see the disapproval in her eye at the sight of Brian washing dishes. "Breakfast was delicious, I trust."  
  
"Very," Harry, James, and Brian said, making Mrs. Figg smile at them.  
  
"Excellent." She turned to her son. "We'll be leaving by half past eight, Beren, so be ready," she told him, calling him by his Eldarin name, as always.  
  
"Why?" Brian asked.  
  
"Cousin Cedric's birthday party. Have you forgotten?"  
  
Judging by the look on Brian's face, he had. Harry watched in amusement as his younger brother made a mad dash towards the door, but as he did, he caught sight of Brian's arms. "Oy! Brian, wait!"  
  
Brian stopped. "What is it?"  
  
"Um. Don't take a shower."  
  
Everyone in the room eyed him warily. "Why?"  
  
Harry sighed. He knew he was going to be in so much trouble for this. "Take a look at your hands."  
  
"AGH!!" Brian's hands were now a very bright blue.  
  
"What did you do to him?" Mrs. Figg asked him shrewdly.  
  
"Nothing!" The old squib arched an eyebrow. ".dangerous."  
  
James looked like he was fighting down a snicker. Mrs. Figg shook her head. Harry could tell that Melissa felt scandalized. Brian appeared to be stuck between anger and amusement. Harry walked over to him, grabbing a fresh hand cloth from the shelf. He said, "Listen, just towel it off, it's not sticky or anything. But, whatever you do, don't try to wash it off or you'll be blue for about a day."  
  
Melissa shot an accusing look at her husband. James shrugged in a boys- will-be-boys sort of way.  
  
Harry tossed the cloth to his brother. Brian caught it. He wriggled his fingers. "And what do I do about these?"  
  
"Wear gloves. This potion's harmless, but it takes 24 hours to wear off. Sorry, little brother, but you did deserve it."  
  
"Yeah, yeah."  
  
Brian followed his mother out of the kitchen. Still looking at his brother, Harry noticed Melissa's disapproving glance out of the corner of his eye. She disliked when Harry played pranks on her son. He was too used to this to care.  
  
"That was a good one," James said out of the corner of his mouth as the door closed behind them. Mrs. Figg shook her head again at the pair of them. "Are you their father or their accomplice?" she remarked at James.  
  
"There's no harm in encouraging them, is there?" James feinted a look of innocence.  
  
"Encourage? Ha! Corrupting them is more like it.."  
  
Harry grinned. He loved hearing the old caretaker rant on his father. He knew that Mrs. Figg was just as amused by the family prank wars as James was. Because of the demands of his job, James couldn't participate as often as his sons did, but he did give them a pretty good run for their money.  
  
The door opened again as a house elf entered the kitchen. She greeted Harry and Mrs. Figg before bowing to James. "Master has an urgent fire call from Lord Crouch, sir."  
  
"Where is he?" James asked, drying off his hands.  
  
"In Master's office, sir. Melody was doing some cleaning when he appeared, sir. Lord Crouch wished to speak to Master James at once, sir."  
  
"Would you please go and tell him I'll be there in a moment?" She nodded. "Thank you, Melody."  
  
And come and have some breakfast when you're done, won't you, Melody?" Harry asked as James disappeared thru the door.  
  
"Melody thanks young Master Harry, for he is kind and gracious. But Mistress Melissa has asked Melody and Sprite to help her dress for the party, sir. Melody must respectively decline Master Harry's offer, sir."  
  
"All right, then. Off you go."  
  
Melody bowed again, then left the room.  
  
Mrs. Figg put down the pan she had been washing. "Two? She needs two house elves?" she said, incredulously. "To get ready for a birthday party?"  
  
"Well, you know Melissa. She'll use anything as an excuse to dress up." Harry glanced at the clock on the wall. "And speaking of dressing up, I'd better do so myself."  
  
"Paging at the Palace again?"  
  
"Mm hmm."  
  
"Should Darla have lunch ready, or are you going to be there all day?"  
  
"You bet all day! Today's the last meeting of the King's Advisors before Midsummer's Festival. The bigger the meeting, the bigger the tips, so.."  
  
"So, you'd better get upstairs and change." Mrs. Figg made a motion with her hand as to shoo Harry out.  
  
At the door, he paused. "Are you sure you don't want me to help?" Harry asked, watching as his old nanny lift the pan back onto the shelf.  
  
"No, dear, I'm fine."  
  
"Thank you, Figgy."  
  
She smiled at his use of his childhood nickname for her. "You're welcome, Ohiri. Now, go on, go on."  
  
Harry smiled too, then made his way up thru the many passages of Vanderhall Manor. A gift from an ancient king to Harry's many times great grandfather, Nathan Vanderhall, for saving the life of the prince over one thousand years ago. The descendents of the Vanderhalls dwelled in the mansion ever since. Harry passed portrait after portrait of his ancestors. He saw other noses like his, other hands like his, others with his unruly black hair. But not one had a pair of emerald eyes, aside from his own family portrait that hung above the mantle in the living room. Lily's portrait had been moved to her death room and covered with a black cloth when she died. Harry wished it had remained in the library. He hated sneaking in there to look at it.  
  
As he strode past it, Harry glanced at the portrait of his great, great grandmother, Laurel Mellyrn. He didn't remember her, for she had passed away long before his birth. So, it was a strange fate that so much of his life was dictated by the fact that he was her descendent.  
  
For you see, Laurel was an elf. Not just any elf, but a princess, and third cousin to Galadriel herself. Laurel had fallen in love with Harry's great, great grandfather, a pure blood wizard by the name of William Berkshire. Now, the birth of offspring between the races was possible, it could also be very tricky, one of the reasons half bloods like Harry were so rare. The difficulty of the birth varied with the level of the race of the parents. Common men, or muggles, as they were known as, were on the bottom. Elves, as they were the oldest race, were on the top level. Sandwiched between the two were Wizards and the Others. The Others were the humanoid sub-races that didn't belong with the Elves, nor with Men (dwarfs, house elves, goblins, giants, the people of Mer, orcs, etc.) Of all the beings on Earth, muggles alone did not carry magic as a whole. Because they were unused to conducting magic, carrying the magical child of a wizard did not suit muggle women's bodies well. The more powerful the child, the greater harm it could cause its mother. As elves were the most powerful beings of all, a muggle successfully bearing an Eldarin child was so near impossible, it had never happened. Lily's magical gifts as a muggle born witch in addition to nearly two centuries worth of dilution of James' Eldarin blood helped to improve their chances.  
  
But not enough.  
  
Lily's body could not handle her son's power as he grew within her. She fought off death long enough to pass on her life, then perished. Harry reached his room. He was reminded of all this every single day when he looked in the mirror, as he was doing now. Lily's brilliant eyes stared back at him, framed on either side of his head by Laurel's (very obviously) Eldarin ears. They were pointed at eh top. Harry was the first person since his great grandmother to have them. His father didn't, his grandfather didn't, his brother didn't, but his did. Harry had been debating with himself whether or not he liked the fact that he was part elf all his life. One the one hand, he was probably the most powerful of all the seventh years, he was fluent in most Eldarin tongues, getting-to-be- competent mage of Eldarin magic and medicine, he had two names, and even though he resented them at times, his ears were rather wicked. However, his mother had died..  
  
James had locked himself in for over a month after Lily had passed away, except to go and be with Harry. James had sunk into his depression so deeply, it had taken the combined efforts of Mrs. Figg, Minerva McGonnagol, Albus Dumbledore (Deputy Headmistress and Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry), Peter Pettigrew, Remus Lupin (Brian's godfather), and Sirius Black (Harry's godfather) that long to get him up and functioning again. It was such a dark time for him.  
  
And yet James named his son after the Eldarin word for 'light', or 'Ohiri'. Because of their dual heritage, like all other half bloods, Harry, Brian, and James all had two names, one for each side of the family, and they always sounded similar. Brian was "Beren", and James was "Jehima."  
  
Throwing the potion stained robe into the laundry basket, Harry grabbed a fresh one from his closet, then proceeded to the bathroom for a nice, long bubble bath (the potion hadn't soaked thru when Brian "hugged" him, so he was. The warm water felt good, and Harry enjoyed playing with the bubbles. He took his time in relaxing. He'd need it for paging later. Even on normal days, it wasn't unusual to go for hours without sitting down, eating or drinking because he was too busy running errands for the politicians. Harry had learned long ago to rest when he could.  
  
"Tactless." A voice interrupted his musing.  
  
Harry looked up to find Brian standing just inside the door. The younger of the brothers wore light blue robes that just did not go with his dark brown hair, and a scowl.  
  
"Say what?" Harry asked, just barely managing to hold back his laughter.  
  
"Absolutely tactless." Brian's scowl deepened.  
  
"What, me or that dress you're wearing?" Harry put on a feinted look of curious innocence.  
  
"Both, actually. You get to play lazy ass in a hot tub while I have to parade around Cedric's party in this like some circus freak."  
  
"Well, at least it matches your hands."  
  
Brian glared at him. Harry could tell he was in for some major retaliation when Brian and Melissa came home later that evening. At the moment, however, revenge was sweet.  
  
"Whatever. Anyway, Mum and I are leaving now, so bye, then." Brian waved a hand as he turned to leave.  
  
"Bye, then,"  
  
A split second later, Brian gave a tiny "oh!" and whipped around again. "Almost forgot," he said, "Dad wants to see you over in his room, dressed and ready to go, A.S.A.P."  
  
"Why? It's only 8:30, isn't it? I've still got two hours. What's up?" Harry asked, puzzled. Brian shrugged.  
  
"I dunno. Something about Crouch."  
  
"Okay, weird."  
  
"Mm hmm. Later, then." Brian really did leave this time.  
  
"Have fun at the circus, freak!" Harry called after him.  
  
"Shut up!"  
  
Harry continued to smile until his brother's footsteps died away. Then he sighed begrudgingly, letting the water out. So much for relaxing. He couldn't imagine why his father wanted to talk to him about "Crouch the Grouch." Two hours earlier than planned, no less.  
  
Nevertheless, some ten or so odd minutes later, Harry knocked on the door to James' room.  
  
"Who is it?" James' voice was muffled thru the wood.  
  
"It's Harry, Dad."  
  
"Perfect timing. C'mon in."  
  
Harry entered the room to find James half dressed, brushing his teeth at the sink in the bathroom adjacent to the main bedroom. Sitting down on a window sile, he asked, "What did Crouch want?"  
  
"You." James spat out the rest of the toothpaste.  
  
Harry groaned. His father grinned sympathetically. "Don't worry, it won't be so bad. As a matter of fact, I wish I could go with you."  
  
Harry eyed him skeptically.  
  
"Well, it's better than sitting on your bum all day, listening to a pack of old windbags, I guarantee you that. But, anyway, Harry.." James glanced quickly around the room. Harry could tell by the way the other went suddenly rigid that this was big.  
  
After making sure they were alone, James spoke again to his eldest son, but this time, in Eldarin, "Did you know that the High Royal Family will be arriving today at the Middle Gate?"  
  
Harry's jaw hit the floor. He tried to ask "all of them?", but his voice seemed to have gotten stuck in his throat. All he could do was shake his head. James chuckled softly.  
  
"Good, that means the Advisors were able to keep a secret for once. But yes, they are coming. Now, Crouch's grandson was supposed to go and meet them at the Gate. Last night, though, he came down with a high fever. It hasn't broken yet, and potions aren't working."  
  
"Wizard's flu?"  
  
"Looks like it. So, Crouch needs a replacement. He wants you."  
  
James leaned on the bedpost, and looked at his son. Harry didn't know what to say. Meeting the High Royal Family would be a great honor, not to mention it was nearly a once-in-a-lifetime event if you weren't part of the High Courts. Then, there was the little matter of the ultimate bragging rights.  
  
Then again, the pressure and responsibility were likely to be through the roof.  
  
Finally, Harry asked, "What would I have to do?"  
  
"A lot, I'm afraid. But, look," James sighed. "I don't mean to rush you, Ohiri, because I know this is a big deal. But if you're up for it, then you'd have to leave for the Gate in about an hour. You'll be leaving from Crouch's manor, and he wants plenty of time to talk to you first. I'm getting ready so if you do go, I can come with you, see you off, and then go to the Palace with Crouch later."  
  
"So," James said, "What do you say?"  
  
Harry thought a moment, but there was no real question about what his answer would be. He grinned broadly.  
  
His father grinned back. He knew Harry would never really pass up an opportunity like this. "Well," he said, reverting back to the tongue of Men, "I at least had to ask. Now hurry. You go and fire Crouch. Tell him we're coming. I'll finish getting dressed."  
  
"Sure thing, Pops," Harry said as he made his way to the door.  
  
"Oh, Harry, wait!" Harry turned around. "Since this is top notch company you'll be in, before you talk to Crouch, run and change into those green robes Sirius gave you. The ones you wore to Fudge's Address last month, you know."  
  
"Yeah, will do, Dad. See you down in the study, then."  
  
And with that, Harry made a mad dash back to him room to change. He was in for the treat of his life.  
  
He just knew it.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
  
Well.? How is it so far?  
  
And yeah, I slapped Crouch with a grandkid. You'll learn more about him and Melissa in later chapters. She's not evil, she's just spoiled and a little biased towards her own son. That and she's a little intimidated by Harry, because like I said, he's pretty powerful, and unlike James and Brian, you can tell he's part elf just by looking at him.  
  
Anyways, thanks! Be sure to review and tell me what you think. 


End file.
